“Maybe someday I can look them up again, just to see how they are doing. Fresh flowers of loveliness have budded, expanded, died. "Leave me, Sir; I insist. Later on—well then the time may come. There must be real Valjeans, else how could authors write about them? Supposing some day she met one of these astonishing creators, who could make one cry and laugh and forget, who could thrill one with love and anger and tenderness? Most of us have witnessed carnivals. ” “What?” He asked, confused. He reached the top floor and ran down the corridor to the little dressing room at the end where he had lost her before. Will you let your servant call me a hansom,” she continued, opening the door before he could reach her side.
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